Hot To Death
by Max Rasgar
Summary: I had no interest in staying home tonight. An adult dressing up only to hand out sugary tooth decay to demanding little children is foolish. I imagine some of the children will be quite cute though. [SwanQueen AU for Halloween]


Disclaimer: Let's do a version of the alphabet: ABC, Disney, K&H and other assorted persons own the characters contained in this story. I'm not a part of their well-paid alphabet. This is a profitless endeavor for me.

A/N: I present to you a complete AU scenario for your potential enjoyment; nothing more and certainly nothing less. Now for some heads up notices: No curses, No FTL/EF alter egos, etc., and No 'soul mate' B.S. even though Robin is present. Also, this is written in third POV in the beginning but the rest of it's in Regina's POV in first person. Now let's get on with it if you're up for it!

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 **-]-Hot To Death-[+**

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 ** _October 31st, 1983..._**

A 1969 Ford Mustang Fastback decked out in flat black paint looked intimidating on the track. Its dulled blackout appearance was slightly offset by the deep purple the racing stripes-that almost blend right into the paint job-ran from the tip of the hood to the tip of the trunk down the center of the car. The number '9' was applied to both sides of the car on the doors and was also the same deep shade of purple. The car itself tore along the track in a state that could be described as a type of brutal engineered grace. The Mustang's black rims which were enhanced by the chrome lip dig into the clay with all the power that the 390 6.4 liter V8 could provide on the high banked turns of the 3/4 of a mile track.

"Fuckin' bastard piece of shit!" Swan growled loudly over the surging engine while trying to get the damned gearshift to go into fourth. "I guess that's what I get for racing in this worn out pony car!"

The driver of said Mustang finally got the sticking clutch and the equally like-minded gearshift to cooperate. The tachometer's falling red needle showed the rpm's faltering, so she had to downshift to recover the lost momentum. The Mustang may have looked fierce but it could've benefitted from a new engine, a new transmission and a clutch prior to the race.

"The 'Midnight Stallion' is a boss winner my ass!" Swan said through gritted teeth as a souped-up Dodge Roadrunner gains even more ground ahead of her. "I would've been better off racing my old yellow bug than this Ford crap!"

Swan got talked into this.

"Race a few races for me Swan he said." Emma said imitating the words the owner of the car said to her while gripping the steering wheel tightly with her left hand and choking the gearshift with her right. "It'll be easy he said. The car I just bought will chew up the competition with you behind the wheel he said."

'Neal Cassidy is full of shit!' Is what Swan thought to herself but she'd damn well tell him a version of that to his face after she was done with the race.

The dusty flat black Mustang sped close by the chicken wire tacked onto the reinforced walls that separated the track from the spectators. The gimmick of today's race could be seen on the people in masks or face paint who tried to cheer over the high powered engines in the classic cars that made up the field of seven racers. On this late afternoon day everyone's attention was being held prisoner by the tall bright metallic blue spoiler of the Roadrunner was being heavily chased by the black Mustang; it was as though the race was just between the drivers of those two cars. The rest of the field seemed to be the more timid kind of daredevil or just afraid to push their cars harder.

"You are so not getting away from me you shit ass!" Swan said as she stomped the clutch and down-shifted into second gear. "I'm coming for you, you smarmy pretty boy-cover girl eyeliner wearin' lover."

Both cars wide-open throttles gurgled down the straightaway throwing a cloud of dust up in the air ten feet or more. The small crowd cheered at the spectacle of the blue Roadrunner evading the black Mustang whose driver was clearly not giving up. The two best drivers were pulling even further away from the rest of the field. The sound of debris clinked under Swan's car as she surged the motor and drifted the 'Midnight Stallion' around the second turn on the track. After coming out of the turn she stomped the clutch and shifted up into third. The Mustang's engine rumbled loudly and sped forward. She was close. Swan took the turn better than the guy driving the Roadrunner. The hardest turn on the whole track was turn three up ahead and Swan was certain she would get past him then.

"You falling asleep behind the wheel of that thing?" Swan shouted and then smiled. "But since you're the Roadrunner I guess that makes me Wylie. Only I'm not gonna Acme bomb myself trying to catch you." The Mustang bounced hard over a bump on the track. "I just wanna pass your leather lovin' ass and make you eat my dirt, Jones!"

A fact of racing is that no matter the type of track with every lap the racers make the surface of the track will change. Dirt track racing was even more susceptible to rapidly changing conditions. The track operators had sprayed the clay track with water to make it more tactile but they missed a spot and then heavily saturated the next. A partially clogged nozzle on the water truck was to blame.

"Boom!" Swan shouted under heavy acceleration as she pulled alongside the Roadrunner and then passed it going into turn three. "Gotcha now bitch!"

The flat black Mustang suddenly lost traction and then fished-tailed wildly on the third turn. The driver tried to get the car under control but then the black Mustang was clipped by other racer in the blue Dodge Roadrunner. The Mustang flipped and continued to flip several times on the track before slamming into a concrete retainer wall just off pit road. A fire engulfed the car in a great whoosh as though the car had been doused in gasoline. The driver was knocked unconscious and was stuck in the car because the roll cage had collapsed onto them; she was also trapped in the seat by a failed racing harness. Several people working at the track managed to put the fire out some with extinguishers before the car could explode. The driver was burned but ultimately she perished from smoke inhalation.

 ** _October 27th, Present Day..._**

"And that my dear is how Emma Swan died." Robin says as he waves over the waiter to collect his mostly empty plate. "A fiery crash on Halloween, such an unusual time to have a race in my opinion but then again it's not like we're talking about a NASCAR event."

The story was amusing if not a grim subject over lunch. At least he didn't go into all the gory details of how that young woman died. I would've had the maître d' throw Robin out of the nearest window head first before I would sit and listen to such a thing. I'm far from squeamish but there are certain topics that aren't meant to be discussed while a person is digesting.

"Robin, when you remarried to my sister after your wife's passing I didn't think that would entail us being best frenemies so to speak."

Robin smirks and then takes a drink of his wine, "And that's a problem for you?"

"Possibly."

"Regina, I enjoy our little lunches here and there." Robin says while making a face as sets his now empty wineglass on the table. "And you seem to enjoy my stories that you do find entertaining whether you choose to acknowledge it or not."

"I will concede to no such thing." I say before wiping my mouth on the linen napkin. I barely tolerate Robin and that's because of my sister. "I know you've become a quite popular writer. Therefore I expect gossip, tall tales and the occasional grotesque considering the world we live in. But what is the purpose of telling me about a very dead female race car driver from the seventies?"

"It happened on October 31st of nineteen eighty-three, Regina."

"Like I care." I retort while roughly placing the linen napkin back on the table.

"Well, I for one thought it was interesting. And besides it's not like you aren't familiar with racing per se; you do own several champion race horses." Robin says with a faint smile and I roll my eyes at him. "Different sorts of horsepower as it were, raw and natural if you will."

"Was that supposed to be funny?"

"I thought it was perhaps if only a little." Robin says while he leans back in his chair; trying to look dapper I imagine. "But the most pertinent detail I found most intriguing about Emma Swan's story-among various other details-is that the former 'Wormwood Racetrack' was located on a section of the property that you acquired recently."

Robin's face is suddenly amusing to me because he looks rather smug and that's not a good look on him. The tailored grey suit he's wearing can only do so much. I know that the suit is courtesy of my sister, the man couldn't dress himself to save his life when Zelena first introduced us. She's also gotten him to tone down on all that scruff he sported on his face. Believe it or not I understand the ideal of facial hair on him; I would want to cover up my face too if I had one like his.

"I'm well aware that my new stables will reside on land with a tacky history of dirt track racing. I did my homework too, Robin."

"Oh well, pardon me Regina. I know the Mills sisters are of the very intelligent, meticulous sort but my query was to see if one of them was superstitious since the day of Emma Swan's death is close."

"I don't follow."

Robin smirks and the sight makes me want to slap him. Out of all the eligible men on this planet my sister had to go and pick this one to hitch herself to. At least I'm not married to him and that's the thought that comforts and gets me through these lunches. I promised Zelena on her wedding day that I would treat Robin as if he were the brother I never had and never wanted. I believe I've more than met the pledge I made.

"Did you have someone perform an exorcism on the property? A cleansing? Or did you have your team of lawyers draft up a contract and have the dead agree to a 'no haunting' clause?"

I grab my linen napkin off the table and throw it at Robin's hideously smirking face. I don't care that we're in public. This is my private table and I own this restaurant and I can do what I damn well please. Robin laughs while removing the fine eggshell white cloth from his face that is smudged on one corner with my lipstick.

"I was wondering how long that would take." Robin says still chuckling far too hearty for my tastes. "Zelena likes to throw things at me too; all harmless things mind you. I do so enjoy getting a rise out of the both of you, so thank you Regina because my wife, your sister, will get a good laugh this evening when I tell her the story of our lunch."

"I can throw my wineglass at you next if you prefer." I offer while picking up the crystal goblet and swirling the small remaining deep red contents around in the glass. "Or perhaps my salad fork; I could test its possible aerodynamic capabilities."

Robin puts his hands up in surrender but that damned infernal smirk remains.

"Now, now there's no need for that Regina. I wouldn't want you to injure your throwing arm all on the account of me."

I will not laugh at my insane sister's husband. He is an oaf and therefore not funny or charming like he believes he is. The rest of our lunch passes with conversation about my favorite step-nephew Roland and the new one that Zelena is very knocked up with. It's satisfying to a degree to see my vain sister waddling around like pregnant duck. Zelena bitches to me when we go shopping or at any given opportunity about whether she'll ever get her figure back. I've told her there's always liposuction and other kinds of cosmetic surgery to consider and of course I got the evil eye from her after making those remarks. I imagine if Robin pressures her for more children she'll simply tell him to have the next one himself.

 ** _Four and a Half Days Later..._**

I had no interest in staying home tonight. An adult dressing up only to hand out sugary tooth decay to demanding little children is foolish. I imagine some of the children will be quite cute though. Instead, I chose to survey what will be and damn it all to hell Robin's story over lunch a few days ago has stayed with me, like indigestion. Amidst the construction which is mostly just smooth bare dirt now, I lean against a wonderful mixed fruit apple tree-which I told my contractor not to touch-in the cooling evening air watching the horizon darken. After few minutes I'm actively trying to envision how this land was once a raucous race track over thirty years ago. My mind won't conjure the image though since what I'm really seeing is how magnificent my proposed barn, training ring and paddock will look once it's complete.

"Can I call you 'Fire Woman' after the song?" A confident female voice suddenly says just a few feet from me and I jump a little. "Since you're about the hottest woman I've ever seen."

I turn around swiftly and look behind me but I see no one though. My hands grip and trail over the rough bark of the apple tree as I peer around it and again there's nothing to see, except a small bulldozer and other types of heavy equipment that belongs to my contractor.

"Relax, I'm not in your head." The voice calls out again from the direction of the backhoe. "I'm just freaky to look at and I'll need a minute to change that because if I don't I know it'll bother you."

"Who's there? Show yourself!" I say harshly while slowly moving away from my post hiding behind the tree.

I've about had enough of this person and their tricks. I have a Taser but I left it in my car like the temporary dunce I've become. This is Robin's fault.

"If that's the way you want to play it lady. I'll give you the full show."

I'm not running like a coward but I do keep steadily walking towards my car. It's almost dark but there's still enough light that I can see my car's not parked but twenty-feet away now. I reach into my coat pocket and pull out the key fob to my car and hit the button for the headlights. The angled and sinister slanted lights from my car cast a long blue beam against the progressing dark. I look down and fumble for the remote start button on the key fob next but I end up dropping the whole damn thing.

"Great." I growl out under my breath as I squat down to retrieve my key fob. "Tonight just keeps getting more fabulous by the second, a potential head case lurking in the dark verses my sudden case of butterfingers."

I run my hands lightly over the loose dirt until a shine catches my eye thanks to my car's headlights; I only have another twenty seconds or so before they automatically shut off. I smile when I see the familiar bright silver of my car's logo that's embossed on the fob. I smile as my fingers rake over my keys and pick them up but at the same time two artfully scuffed combat boots step into my line of sight.

"Relax, I'm not going to hurt you. I promise."

The headlights click off and I hit the button again. The blue glow casts a shadow of the person standing over me. The sudden glare causes white spots that dance in my vision which makes it that much harder for my eyes to adjust after chasing the darkness away with the finest LED headlights. I rise up to my full height while dusting off my knees even though my pants never touched the ground.

"Hurt me? Oh please, just because you're some delinquent with nothing better to do on Halloween than toilet paper a construction site which by the way I'm sorry I interrupted but..." My words taper off though when I truly see what's in front of me.

Tight jeans, scuffed black combat boots, black tank top are a part of the picture but when the state of her face actually registers I feel unsettled. Then there are more than a few burns, deep angry red burns mar the pale flesh on her high cheekbones. The right side is worse and deeper because I can see hints of bone through what looks like blackened muscle tissue. Her left eye is mostly closed and the eyelid is burned, as is the skin on both of her upper arms, the left bicep muscle is torn away completely. I stumble backwards when the smell of burnt hair and possibly flesh carries on the wind that has started to lightly blow. The person in front of me tries to smile but I don't think their damaged face will allow it anymore. Long blonde hair stirs on the wind and settles down over her shoulders.

"My name's Emma, Emma Swan. And this is not some cool make-up job for Halloween, I'm dead. I'm a ghost or whatever is the accepted term is."

Every so called healthcare professional I've ever went to for advice and treatment needs to be fired. This is crazy. I've finally snapped under the stress of dealing with my accountants.

"Damn," The ghost says with a crooked smirk. "Lady, I can't decide what pops from you more right now."

"Excuse me?"

"You have a vein on your forehead that stands out when you get all wound up." The ghost and I can't believe that I'm acknowledging that's what it is, says as it moves closer to me. "And as for the other thing, well I was talking about the third button on your shirt. Let me tell you, lady when that thing goes 'pop' it'll be a show for the ages. I'd watch out for that if I were you; make sure no small children are around."

"Who...what the hell are you?"

"I told you. But seriously hold on a minute unless you're really enjoying looking at my extra crispy self."

Magic doesn't exist unless you count the fellows in Las Vegas who would trick you into believing but this is different. I don't know if I would call it magic. I could in fact be having a mild seizure and right now my body is just paralyzed upright. Still, I watch as the burns on the ghost's face fade and then turn to pink skin before becoming that perfect death pallor. All I can fixate on though is staring at her left eye as it heals for lack of a better word and then two green eyes are open and looking back at me. A quick glance down to her mouth makes me annoyed because its fashioned into a smug smirk. I hate those.

"Wipe that look off your face." I say while hitting the headlight button for the third time before the lights switch off yet again. "I don't know what kind of ailment I'm suffering from but I know I could do without...whatever this is."

The ghost, who I'm going to have to start calling her by name for the sake of my mental health, since not only am I seeing dead people I'm talking to them too, so I may as well commit to it all the way if I'm slowly but surely edging off into the deep end.

"Aww, don't be like that. Anyways you didn't give me a whole lot of time to get my shit straight so you got to see that." Emma says while jamming her hands into the tight pockets of her jeans. "But hey, I've got to be easier on the eyes now, huh? Come on, be honest I look hot and not the badly burned kind anymore."

I won't answer that question because I'm hallucinating or I damn well better be. I feel my breathing pick up and I place my hand over my heart.

"Relax Regina, can I call you Regina since I'm not much for formalities?" Emma says and I glare at her. "Anyways, just so you know I'll be out of your hair when the sun comes up. That's when the magic wears off if you want to call it that."

"Why are you bothering me? Why are you here trespassing on my property? And how do you know my name?"

Emma laughs for a few seconds and then looks at me strangely, "First off, I don't think I'm bothering you and Halloween is the only time I can come back here. You know see the world and all the shit I've missed out on, although I would be old as fuck now if I were alive." She says as she pulls her hands out of her pockets and gestures around. "Finally, I know your name because it's on that sign near the road proclaims that this property will soon be home to 'Apple Bottom Fillies Boarding' or some such shit."

"That's not what it's going to be called."

"I know it's something to do with apples though." Emma says with a shrug and a grin. "Do you have an apple fetish or something, Regina?"

"No more than your apparent Queen one, dear. Since you were obviously thinking of that 'Fat Bottom Girls' song."

Emma chuckles, "Huh, you really got a mouth on you too, I like it. I bet you don't take any shit either."

"What a wonderful vocabulary you have, Miss Swan." I say sternly not that I mind being profane though. 'Bitch' is my personal favorite curse word but she doesn't need to know that. "Now I can tell anyone that I would want to think of me as unhinged that I've conversed with a ghost and she cussed more than a preacher before he can absolve himself during Sunday mass."

Emma smiles and sticks her tongue in the side of her cheek while she stuffs her hands in the back pocket of her jeans this time. The nervous gesture isn't the least bit appealing for me, though I suppose it would give most men even more suggestive thoughts.

"So do you have a husband or boyfriend with a girlfriend on the side?" Emma blurts out while her eyes roam and then she smiles. I have the immediate urge to remove said expression from her face with force; her eyes didn't miss an inch when she trailed them over my body from head to toe. "Time hasn't changed much from what I can tell except that a lot of so called straight married women want a lady friend on the side away from their husband. Or the same ladies want a woman with no dignity who wants to play with them and their husband at the same time-a three layer sandwich of sin."

I should admire the ghost's tenacity but I've never really appreciated such bluntness. Then again it's not really directed at me since my personal life doesn't mirror those descriptions.

"I have no need for a husband; no man will ever tell me what I can and cannot do."

"I like that." Emma says with a wink. "So does that mean you like the ladies too or maybe just them exclusively?"

I scoff, "Don't see how that is any of your business. I'm not a can of soup; I like who I like and that's all you need to know."

I've never understood societies need for labels but I'm not discussing my lifestyle politics with an apparition. Emma frowns and for a moment I wonder if I should do a quick search on my phone to see if that small southern woman from 'Poltergeist' is available to cleanse this land. Perhaps I should've looked into that the minute the deed was tended over to me.

"What kind of an answer is that, huh? Something a matter? Yes, I know I haven't flirted with a woman in long damn time but shit, Regina." Emma says calmly but I can tell she's getting pissed, over what I have no idea. "Am I not good looking enough for you? Wrong gender? Beneath you in some way?"

My mouth falls open but thankfully only for a half second before I close it, "Swan, you're dead."

"You think I don't know that?" Emma says incredulously. "Geez lady, I may be brain dead but I'm not stupid or uninformed. Besides it's not like I can do much, so you have nothing to worry about. I just thought you might've decided you liked my company a little."

I don't know why this is funny to me but it is. Damn Robin, but I will be damned twice over before I ever tell him or anyone about this night. The blonde dead woman in front of me frowns and scuffs her boots in the dirt. I feel about as ridiculous as I feel mentally unstable at the moment.

"I'm sorry if I...offended you, Miss Swan." I say after a silence that was filled by the rustle of dry leaves blowing across the ground in the breeze.

Emma nervously smiles at me then glances around before she gestures behind her with a wayward hitch of her thumb.

"Hey, is that your a car?"

"Of course Miss Swan who else's would it be, but why is that pertinent information all of the sudden?"

"Let's go for a ride then."

"Are you kidding me?"

"Nope."

Emma grins while walking backwards a few steps before she turns around and starts off towards my car. I scoff and put my keys in my coat pocket before following after her. I must've hit my head very hard at some point in my life and the injury has just been lying in wait for the proper trigger. I actually prefer that outlook as opposed to the one that suggests I don't have both paddles in the water.

"Sweet ride." Emma says and then accompanies the statement with a whistle. "I should'a known you'd have a fancy ass foreign car. This is gonna be fun."

Indeed I do have an affinity for the Mercedes brand; my first was a classic 1988 560SL in black of course. I still have that car but as a treat to myself earlier this year I bought the car Miss. Swan is drooling over if she could in fact drool. My sleek, powerful and deliciously angry Mercedes AMG C63s in metallic black seems to gleam in the moonlight. Sometimes I think the 19-inch satin black cross spoke wheels were a bit ostentatious but that thought never sticks whenever I look at my beautiful mechanical beast.

"Hey Regina, have you ever seen 'Ghost Rider'?"

"No."

"Then you're going to love this and I mean that in a sarcastic sense." Emma says while she lays her hands on the hood of my car like she's about to do something to it. But nothing happens aside from her fingerprints on a fresh, flawless wax job. "I'm just kidding. I can't do anything like that."

"What exactly was supposed to happen?"

"You know...the car would transform?" Emma says with a shrug and a wry grin. I just glare back at her for the hell of it. "Lady, you need to increase your pop culture knowledge."

"That's debatable but I will not hand over my keys to you, Miss Swan."

"Don't need those. And I'll have you calling me 'Emma' before this night is over with."

The ghostly idiot as I'm going to not so affectionately call her in my thoughts opens the driver side door to my car; simply bypassing the alarm with a wave of her hand.

"Holy shit!" Emma says as she plops down in the driver's seat with about as much grace as a drunk on roller skates. "This sweet thing is as gorgeous as is owner."

"Will you stop coming on to me." I say while rolling my eyes at her. Begrudgingly, I open the passenger door and-to me-sit down amidst a suitable definition of perfection. "I can't believe I just asked a non-living person to do that."

Emma grins and shimmies down in the driver's seat. I opted for the black and red pepper leather interior option. I find that even the smallest accents throughout the car tastefully wicked and decadent. The contrasts of the red leather on the door panels and on the sides of the seats are spectacular.

"Yeah, you've got taste and an obvious love of raw power." Emma says while fondling the fine leather on my steering wheel. "Sporty luxury but not too much of either one-this suits you."

I huff and shift in my seat to Emma's apparent delight if the little chuckle I just heard is any indication. She's right about me though. I didn't buy a V8 with 510 horsepower just to spend almost seventy-five thousand dollars. When I've indulged myself in letting go in this car I must say that I wasn't disappointed to find that the 7-speed transmission shifts as smooth as greased, melted butter.

Emma hits the start button and the car cranks up. She turns and smiles at me while revving the engine, "Wow, that's an unholy roar. I love it!"

I reach for the seatbelt and pull it across my torso and click it. I'm no fool and fools are the ones unprepared and who knows how safe I am with Casper the Flirty Blonde Ghost behind the wheel.

"By all means enjoy it Miss Swan since I bought this car with you in mind after all."

"Oh, you're so funny." Emma says as she places her hand on the leather bound gearshift and curls her fingers around it. "Now hold onto something."

Before I can tell Miss Swan that she's about as entitled to treat my car this way like I'm entitled to be the Queen of England I'm pushed back into my seat. The idiot in the driver's seat has glued her lead foot to my gas pedal for all its worth. I close my eyes and frown while listening to the loose fine gravel being continually thrown out from behind my car's rear wheels. Then in another few seconds I feel my car's rear end slide sideways; my eyes fly open and I turn to glare at the dead woman next to me who corrects the cars over accelerated path with a gentle tug on the steering wheel. In an effort to reign my growing agitation I grip my restraints tighter as Emma speeds down the graded off dirt road that will eventually be paved; for now it's about as basic as it gets.

"This car is the shit!" Emma says with obvious glee and for some reason I picture a maniacal smile growing on her face at an alarming rate. "Let's give her a little more 'go' juice."

I roll my eyes while bouncing in the seat since we're going over all of the uneven patches that have yet to be smoothed out on the dirt road. Just up ahead is a rather deep bump by my memory but before I can say anything about it we hit it and shortly afterwards my car lands roughly on back on the ground.

"Miss Swan, what the hell do you think you're doing!" I say while choking the seatbelt with my left hand and bracing myself against the door with my right. "If you wreck my car you'll be wearing your insides on the outside. I don't give a shit if you are a ghost!"

"Unwind your panties before you strangle yourself with them, My Majesty."

"What!"

"I meant to say Your Majesty...but you know...never mind!" Emma growls while no doubt pressing her boot clad foot down harder on the accelerator. "Don't worry about your precious car the mileage won't even show or anything I'll make sure of it. Haven't you ever watched the movie 'Christine'?"

"That's a movie about a possessed car, Swan."

"So you've seen it, good, same difference."

"How does that even make sense?"

"Just go with it, Regina."

My car picks up more speed courtesy of the dead person driving who has nothing to lose anymore. I swear if she even thinks about doing a one-eighty in my car I will kill her all over again-I would find a way. In less than two minutes my car's tires bark on the asphalt on the highway due to getting so much better traction.

"You didn't even bother to look to see if another car was coming you idiot!" I say while turning my head to properly yell at the driver.

Emma smirks, "I may be an idiot but this is a night you'll never forget. I know I won't."

I scoff in spite of myself and face forward again. The two yellow lines of the highway and its scattered reflectors rush by. The engine of my Mercedes AMG C63s winds higher to a pleasing grumble. I resolve to just sit back in my seat and enjoy the ride. If we do get pulled over the cop can write the ticket to the dead woman driving.

"You better not fall asleep on me over there, Regina."

I chuckle under my breath, "Why ever not Miss Swan? I find going an excess of eighty miles an hour to be rather pleasing in this car on a paved road of course."

"I knew you'd cut loose in this bad girl before." Emma says before she flicks off the headlights. "You just pretend to be uptight but you're really a fun bad girl too, don't deny it."

I've driven with the headlights off before during the so called Hunter's Moon which is still casting its light effectively tonight. The white line on the edge of the highway is just as visible as the bold double yellow line in the center.

"Guilty as charged, Miss Swan." I retort darkly as I turn to look at my driver.

With just the dash lights illuminating her face I can see Emma's smile, "You know you couldn't lie to me even if you wanted to, Regina."

I laugh as Emma slows down a little by letting off the accelerator before she rounds a sharp curve with ease and then begins to speed back up before she's completely out of the turn.

"Nice trick there, Miss Swan. You must have been a successful racer before your accident."

Emma's smile fades but she remains focused on the road, "It wasn't what you think." She speeds up as the highway turns into nothing but a straight stretch with a speed trap waiting in about two miles. "I'll tell you about it later." She says while turning her attention to me for a few seconds. "For now let's just drive."

"Alright, just don't scratch my car or get me killed, Swan."

Emma laughs and I feel my car pick up more speed. Now that I think about it if that police officer is lying in wait, it could be interesting or at the very least amusing if we do get pulled over.

 ** _Later..._**

The night went by too fast, literally. Scarcely populated winding highways taken at ninety miles an hour or better didn't even garner attention from the authorities or as Emma called them 'pig patrol'. I supposed it had everything to do with this supernatural warp I've allowed myself to fall into. Regardless though, I still keep expecting to wake up on my living room floor or somewhere to that effect. I can easily picture being passed out from having too much of my homemade cider and this has been nothing but a dream brought on by alcohol poisoning. The past five in the morning air though feels very real and refreshing in its chill. We stopped racing down the roads almost two hours ago to return to my property. All we've done is since coming back is talk and this is by far the longest I've ever spoken to someone by choice and enjoyed it.

"It took me longer than I would've liked to get out of those damn powder-puff races." Emma says as she casually leans against the front fender of my car; her eyes watching the lightening horizon. "Racing wasn't going to be a career choice, just something I did to break up the monotony of life, you know. I never...thought I would die that way."

Emma's voice sounds sad for the first time since she barged into my life for the night. Oddly, I've found her exuberance fun for lack of a better label, I'll never tell her that though. Just hearing her voice in that glum context makes me want to change the subject, but tactfully.

"The man my sister willingly said 'I do' to told me about you before tonight." I say while leaning back on the fender next to Emma but not too close though. "His name is Robin, he loves the sound of his own voice; thinks his every word is a benediction."

"Sounds like there's a lot of love between you and him." Emma says with a chuckle.

"Why yes, Miss. Swan. In fact, I think the sun shines out of his backside."

Emma snorts, "So he's married to your only sister and I can tell he gets on your nerves."

"Robin does indeed test my patience on purpose. But the man is absolutely insistent on us being friends, no matter how much I verbally bash him."

Emma laughs and I turn sideways a little to look at her. She really is quite beautiful with her long, flowing blonde hair and strong features. I know that's what she looked like in life and know her appearance is but a glamor to hide what she looks like in death.

"Did he tell you specifically how I went toes up?"

Emma's cute, dimpled smirk has grown on me over the course of the evening. But what I really need to stop appreciating and doing is sneaking looks at those amazing arms of hers.

"Robin offered some details, but considering who he is I suspect he embellished benign details and glossed over more relevant ones."

Emma's smirk fades from her lips and a faraway expression replaces it. I wonder if she's here as a memory of sorts and nothing more. I haven't tried to touch her and she hasn't tried to touch me.

"I died during a heat race and we did a 'pill-draw' beforehand." Emma says and then shrugs at the silence before she continues. "A pill-draw is just where each race driver draws a number to determine where they start in a heat race. It wasn't even a real race but I wanted to start first. I wanted to win so damn bad. Anyway the details your friend left out probably went like this: Some guys just off pit row managed to put out the fire before the car exploded and they got me out of the car before I was burned to a crisp. But by then I had inhaled so much smoke; several of my ribs where broken and when they pulled me out of the car two of my ribs punctured a lung. So death was pretty quick for me."

Knowing what to say, what's needed sometimes isn't my strong suit. I'm perfectly at home with my standard verbal flare but more emotional moments aren't my forte. Honestly, they don't really seem to be Emma's either but I don't think I'm the best judge about that. So I stay silent and within a few moments out of the corner of my eye I see her shake her head and then force out a smile.

"I think your horse farm or whatever it's supposed to be called is going to really be something." Emma says as I notice the sky starting to turn blue. "Racing horses sound like a pretty cool thing if you get along with animals bigger than you that is, and it doesn't bother you that they're dangerous on both ends."

I laugh but its tinged in a strange sadness. Our time together is almost over. I've known that for the last several hours but it only just now feels certain.

"I get along with them quite well. Much better than most people actually."

Emma smirks, "I don't think you're so bad. I mean you've got to be the sassiest woman to walk the Earth in Jimmy Choo's." I exhale loudly and roll my eyes. "But everybody used to say I was 'prickly' so I guess that's why we mingled to a point you started to like me a little bit, and don't bother trying to lie cause I can tell."

How did I become transparent to her in just a few hours? But more importantly she's right again and why does she have to be dead? Everyone I've ever come to like much less anything else is always tragically unavailable. I look towards the horizon, the sky has lightened more and I have no idea if I've managed to keep my thoughts off my face, but Emma moves closer to me. If she were alive I imagine I would feel her warmth from the closeness but there isn't any. I feel nothing tangible that is.

"You know I have a niece about your age that lives around here. Everybody in my family tells her she looks like me and acts like me sometimes." Emma says with far too much smugness and I turn my head away from the view to glare at her. "She's a young and very open-minded widower; her son is a handful like someone else I met tonight."

So much for masking my emotions. Apparently, I now have a ghost playing matchmaker of all things.

"What's her name, Miss Swan?" I ask with as much bored contempt as I can summon under false pretenses.

Emma chuckles, "Allison, but everybody calls her Cameron."

"Well, that's not unusual at all." I say as Emma abruptly pushes off from the fender of my car. "But more importantly why are you telling me about her?"

Emma turns around and smiles at me but those green eyes of her's look watery, "You need a friend who's alive, Regina. And who knows you two might hit it off and then maybe even better things will happen."

I feel something run down my cheek and its then that I realize my emotions have been on the surface this whole time. I've never had someone who only wanted the simplest things from me. I quickly wipe the tear away before it can be seen, or I hope Emma didn't see it but I have a feeling that's just a wishful thinking on my part.

"Thanks for tonight Regina." Emma says as she fidgets with the numerous black bands she has on her left wrist. "This was the last time I could physically come back and it was worth it." My eyes start to water again to my absolute horror. "After I saw my family today I was just going to hang around here and revisit my memories, but then I saw you and let's not forget your badass ride."

I wipe under both of my eyes discretely and scoff, "I'm glad that my car was also an incentive for you, Swan."

"I'm pretty sure it won't kill you to call me Emma just once."

I swallow roughly and nod my head, "This is goodbye then...Emma."

"It is." She says softly before turning away from me.

Watching her walk away from me is suddenly hard and I don't know why but that doesn't change anything. A part of me feels so sad and lonely all too quickly. I really do wish this was some night sweat dream due to an excessive amount of alcohol consumption.

"And Regina one last thing...I put my niece's number in your cell phone."

That damned dead woman. I don't need to guess anymore how annoying she was in life. The proof is self-evident.

"Oh, how thoughtful." I shout at Emma's back. "That won't make me look like a stalker at all."

Emma stops walking and turns around to face me. She starts to fade as the sun begins to break over the horizon and the last thing I see is her smile but the last thing I hear is: "You can pretend it was a wrong number or a butt dial. You're a smart woman, you figure it out. And make sure that third button comes undone on the second date, then you'll be set for life."

I can't help but chuckle even though this isn't a one hundred percent truly happy moment. Saying goodbye is one thing but I don't know if I'll remember this night when I finally do sleep, or what will happen if I ring that number-if it's in fact on my Blackberry-accidentally on purpose. So during the first dawn in November to verify my sanity I pull my cell phone out of my jacket pocket and open my contact list. To my absolute lack of surprise right near the top is one name that wasn't there before 'Allison C'.

"That sneaky bitch." I say with a smile while locking the screen on my cell and putting back in my jacket pocket.

As I open the door to my car and slide into the driver's seat I notice what Emma promised about her time in my car is true. The Mercedes still has the same amount of fuel in it and the mileage looks to be about what it was before what was last night happened. I turn the key to unlock the ignition and press the red 'engine-start' button and then just sitting here letting my mind replay over everything it's already feeling surreal. I reach for the seatbelt, pull it across me and fasten it and with a sigh I pull my car in reverse and back up just enough before I put it in drive. An unexpected smile wants to break loose on my face and it actually does when I press the accelerator down and speed off on the gravel road. When I get to the deep bump in the road though, I will be going at a much slower pace.

 **-]-END-[+**

* * *

 **Soundtrack:** **"If You Want Blood (You Got It)" by AC/DC, "Rebel Angel" & "16 Dollars" by Volbeat, "My Body" by Young the Giant**

 **Last Words:** **I** **realize some of you won't like the open ending but that's just how it is. Moving along my reasons for doing this are: Way over a month and a half ago now I wrote the R & R lunch scene and laughed a fair bit. (I prefer them as friends not the 'gah-gag' mess they are on the show.) Then the little muscle car vs. the good ship E.S. Bug chase scene in the 'Lily' episode popped in my head. But my main reason for this story is I always write something for my favorite holiday and this year I chose these characters to play with so...Happy Halloween!**


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